


Catalyst

by foreverinprinxietyhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alcohol Abuse, Comforting!Sam, Confessions, Confrontations, Flashbacks, Guilt, Hinted Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal!Cas - Freeform, Suicide Attempt, attempted drug overdose, blame, depressed!cas, drug dealer!Crowley, moc!dean, s10 ep22, self mutilation, suggested rehab, unusual behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverinprinxietyhell/pseuds/foreverinprinxietyhell





	Catalyst

Life is a worth opponent, and even though no one won against it it was an experience nonetheless despite the times where giving up seemed better than a continuous path. Castiel had watched both of the Winchesters reach the ultimate low, and had never considered it could also happen to him, especially when the unthinkable came to be; the love of his life had nearly killed him. It had been a month since the incident occurred, yet that did not prevent the flashbacks which stole into regular intervals of both day and night where murder had been attempted in several repetitive blows once caught off guard, bones echoed in successive, simple snaps. Laying there had been the worst part, for the darkened emeralds stared from above as a strengthened fist wrapped around the silver hilt of an angel blade; a sight never expected from the one who had protected loved ones for so long. Begging, the tension had risen like the tide of water waiting to wash ashore released only when the time was right, yet it was set off course once the clenched hand hesitated for only a moment until it was plunged into the wooded floor instead of flesh, as had been expected. It had been the last time the angel had seen either of the hunters he aligned to, but the promise to not miss the next time still echoed in a dulled mind. Now, he reluctantly sat in the living room of the bunker after having mustered up enough courage to return to where the event took place sitting across from Sam while blue eyes stared at the interlocked fingers that bundled together in an undisturbed lap. 

“Do you want to see him?” the younger brother asked a while after the events of that day had been revisited in a guarded tone, for it was clear that the assigned abuse was discouraged. If only he knew what had happened later on…  
“I keep asking myself that question,” Castiel replied, unable to look up at the sympathetic one who had done nothing but listen, “I want to, yet I don’t know when the right time would be.”

“Obviously, you wouldn’t have come here if it was the wrong time.” another voice was added to the conversation, startling the celestial being into nearly passing out, yet it was prevented once contact was received by a firmed hand placed onto a covered shoulder. 

“Dean…”

“Is that all you’ve got?,” the other taunted cruelly, “Pathetic.” 

Usually, it would have only been met with a lengthened bravado of how it was not him speaking, yet if it had not worked on that infamous day then it would not work this time. Without a word, he slipped out from under the comforted constant contact and approached the onemocked the pain caused due to miscalculations made, one hand wrapped around the vulnerable neck as the male was pushed into the nearest wall, “You have hurt me for the last time, Dean.”

“What’re you going to do about it, kill me?” 

“Will you shut up?!,” he wondered exasperatedly in a tone deepened with an emotion not admitted to being under the influence of in the same manner as the blur of patterned nights that followed the violent outburst, for it hadn’t been relevant to the situation except in the instance when the older Winchester had made his presence known; it was harder to admit the situation in front of this arisen monster, for the information could be used against him in another attempted murder. At this point, was that such a bad thing?, “You have no idea what I went through.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“The reason that I “screwed you over” was because I cared about you, loved you even, which that seems to be one-sided, and what you did not finish on that night, I tried to finish myself, but apparently the drinking advice you gave me didn’t cover the addition of several medications,” Silence ensued for what seemed to be an eternity in the void while this information was processed by the residents of the underground home, yet no words needed to be spoken once the smirk faltered on the older hunter’s lips. Did he have any regrets? It was hard to tell…

“Your chest is marked with the sigil those bombers used.”

“It was going to be finished once the alcohol and pills were consumed, but it was never fully achieved.” 

“You don’t even die right, do you?” It was the catalyst that set the rogue angel over the edge, for the person once risen from perdition was losing the last grip on humanity hung onto by a bared thread.

“I learned it from you.” 

Fisticuffs flew like rapidly beating wings, for anger had been unleashed on both ends of the field of battle, yet there would be no winner or loser since it was prevented from going further than a few jabbed hits by the younger hunter, more barraged blows being delivered onto the innocent before each wrist had been caught midair, “That’s enough from both of you.” 

A slight tremor ran through Castiel’s entire vessel coupled with a chill though it was not the usual one that signaled adrenaline’s abrupt halt; it was something different altogether, yet it did not seem any different than the regular intervals of interaction even when mentioned. An emptiness accompanied it, and the hollowed shell was welcomed. 

“Cas?” Sam started, not knowing exactly how to ask what happened to the entire hand still held in his grasp, for the skin had begun to flake off like curled pieces of paper touched by a hungered flame, dried blood caked in places where it was endlessly picked at. Upon further inspection, there were further fractures at the base of the palm where pink, horizontal lines were in the process of being healed. 

Unable to think of anything to say in justification, the fallen angel plunged into Sam’s broadened chest, face hidden from full view as tears were shed into the plaid shirt worn by the male religiously. The sound of a slammed shut door echoed throughout the bunker, which was ignored while the watered waves were ridden in order not to be completely drowned though it reverberated inside the closed ivory walls of a poisoned mind underneath the volume of the conversation that replayed in an endlessly looped cycle.; if it had not been for the anchor that was the younger Winchester, the surf would have swallowed him whole.

During the process, they returned to the cushioned couch, the immortal allowed to press close to the human in order to seek warmth before a blanket that draped along the back of the pieced furniture found its way around the sagged shoulders, “I shouldn’t have come here…”

“Why did you?”

“Well, despite wanting to confront Dean about his wrongdoings, I actually came here for you.” Despite the inappropriateness of the given situation, it needed to be spoken aloud. Yes, Castiel had had feelings for Dean, but in the shortened length of the past few months while working to find a cure for the curse given, a fondness developed towards the younger of the two, which had slowly grew into a love that exceeded the previous one; a decision had been made. 

Understanding, fingers were linked through the open spaces of the hand that still clung onto the long-sleeved shirt, replacing it with human contact, “I’m flattered, Cas. I’ve felt the same way for quite some time now, but what we need to focus on is getting you back to full health.”

“I already am.”

“You’re still dependent on the pills.”

A heated flush flourished on the plane of skin near the nape of a collared neck, yet it was ignored as the head it was attached to shook back and forth in denial. The medication, which had been bought off of the streets from a shorter man with a British accent whom he could not remember entirely, restored the numbed emotions to a feigned level. In a sense, he felt soulless. 

“I’ll be there every step of the way.” Gently, the appendages were removed in order to pick up an unknown object sat on the edge of the table, the circumference of a glass offered at the thinned line of a cracked set of lips. At first it was declined, the choice changed once a slight sadness was detected in the other’s facial features. 

“What if I fail again?”

“Then we’ll start over, and try again,” Sam stated, a kiss given to the bent knuckles before he continued on, “I’m not going to lie, it’ll probably hurt in more ways than one, but if it’s taken one step at a time, you can get through it.”

The guilty are safe, but always accused by empty eyes that stared back from a personal viewpoint. If it were not for the interference to clear the fogged judgment, the wayward angel would not have lasted much longer, for it wore down on those who were most vulnerable. The tempting thoughts of being removed from life seemed moot compared to the mortal scarred in unfathomable ways promising to be there during the climb out of a rock-bottomed pit, and even though a part of him was reluctant to do so, it was agreed upon with a simplified nod; the long, hard road out of a personified hell, but in the end it would be worth the fight put up for survival while the shattered shards were pieced back together.


End file.
